The Loneliness Plague

What follows is my sermon from Shabbat Bo.

On this Shabbat I offer a meditation about the ninth plague of darkness.

Arbel Yehud, the twenty-nine-year-old who was kidnapped along with her partner, Ariel, from their Kibbutz Nir Oz safe room on October 7th was released by her Hamas captors yesterday. After hugging her parents, brother Neta, and sister-in-law she offered these first words, “I was lonely.” Apparently, she was held alone throughout her 482 days in captivity. She was held hostage in harsh conditions, underground and often denied food. Still, she did not say, “I was hungry,” but “I was lonely.”

I have often wondered why the ninth and second to worst plague is darkness. Why is darkness so terrible and second only to the killing of the first born? The Torah describes it as darkness that can be touched. We read, “Moses held out his arm toward the sky and a thick darkness descended upon all the Egypt for three days. People could not see one another, and for three days no one could move about.” (Exodus 10)

Imagine not being able to see another person. Imagine not being able to touch another human being. Is this the meaning of a darkness that can be touched? People need human contact. It is essential to our being. This is part of what makes the hostages’ fate so devastating. Three days seems unbearably long. For Arbel it was 482 days. And that is unimaginably long. Hamas has succeeded in making such unimaginable pain real. And the fate of the remaining 82 hostages is now our darkness.

Arbel was alone. She sat in the tunnel’s darkness wondering if her partner Ariel was still alive. That question remains unanswered. Did she dream of her grandparents coming to Gaza’s border in 1955 to help found her kibbutz? Did she dream about the stars that she could not see but that so fascinated her curiosity? Did the darkness block out all her dreams? Did it obscure all of nature’s wonders? Now, upon her return, she must contend with the news that her brother Dolev was murdered on October 7th.

Darkness is not so much the absence of light but the absence of others. It is the darkening of our dreams and the obscuring of seeing others. It is the loss of being held by others and holding others. What makes us human is our need to be with others. One need only watch one of these fifteen reunions to understand this truth. The families cannot stop touching and kissing each other. To truly see another person is to see their joys and their pains. To see another person is to watch compassion birthed. We need to carry others. And we need to be carried by others. What makes us human is the ability to share our dreams with others and to unburden our worries to other people.

What makes us Jewish is the blessing of community. It is there that we speak of our dreams. It is there that our worries become less burdensome. Our joys are magnified by community. Our pains are lessened by others. The congregation is the age-old Jewish answer to our present “loneliness epidemic.” When alone our fears tend to darken our dreams. Solitude obscures life’s wonders. That is why we say blessings in community. That is why we thank God for the evening when we gather.

Darkness is about being alone. It is about the absence of dreams. It is about the absence of being held by others.

The hostage prayer that many congregations now regularly offer has become hauntingly present. It was written during medieval times when Crusaders slaughtered Jews and when our fears about being taken hostage were all too common. It reads, “May the Holy One have mercy on them and take them out from narrowness to expanse, and from darkness to light, and from oppression to redemption, now, swiftly, and soon!” From darkness to light! From being alone to being enveloped by family and friends.

The prayer’s very name Acheinu makes clear is overarching message. We are brothers—and sisters. We are bound together. We need to be held. We need to hold others. To be human is to care for others. And it is to be cared for by others. To be Jewish is to always see another person.

The Torah states that when darkness descended on Egypt, “All the Israelites enjoyed light in their dwellings.” What was once a statement of fact has now become our prayer. May all of Israel enjoy light. May every hostage feel the embrace of family and friends. May darkness be forever banished from our midst. May every hostage be reunited with their loved ones. May such a plague never again touch our people.

And may our dreams of peace never become darkened.